Tripping Tony DiNozzo
by ellenoz
Summary: Tag to S2 The Good Wives Club. Tony is not quite himself on the drive out to JAX


Tripping Tony DiNozzo

by ellenoz

Rating M

Challenge response Tag to S2 Good Wives Club

at NCISGenFanfiction

Humor/Team fic

Beta: thanks to Annie Booker

Summary : Tony is not quite himself on the drive back to JAX

Tony wanted Cautious Kate to drive. Or even Granny Elf McGee. He wondered if he found a candle and blew . . . do you make the wish before you blow the candle out or after you blow the candle out? McGee would know. Kate would know, too. Gibbs would head slap him. He didn't have one anyway. A candle, that is. Or a match. If he did he'd make a wish that Gibbs would stop the car and let one of the others get behind the wheel. Gibbs was grouchy and it was making all the lights turn red. Tony chuckled. Grouchy Gibbs, Cautious Kate, and Granny Elf McGee. So he was . . .

Toasty Tony. Tasty Tony. Tickle- me-Tony.

He laughed very, very quietly because Gibbs was really, really grouchy.

Oh wow, this light was green. Bright, bright green. Or yellow. No, red.

The seatbelt was cutting into him and the back of the front seat was close up in his face all of a sudden. Then it wasn't. His head wobbled. Funny word, that. Wobble. Wobbled. Woobbbliing.

It was one of those words that sounded like what it did.

Fuck, his head hurt. That wasn't funny at all. He should take another pill. Where was his soda?

McGee was pawing at him. Saying something, too. Granny's voice was stretchy. Tony would've laughed except he was maybe going to vomit. He probably should ask Gibbs to stop the car.

"Boss, I gotta get some air." Huh. His mouth felt all strange and stretchy. McGee looked like that, too. Why was McGee in his face? Tony should tell Tim that he wanted to get out of the car.

Tony threw up in his mouth a little bit, instead.

* * * * *

Tim was feeling more than a little stressed. When Senior Field Agent Gibbs told you to get something done there was no room for error. You made damned sure to do it right, and you made damned sure there were no complications along the way. That was if you wanted to live to be abused another day, anyway. A few hours ago Gibbs had left Tim down in the ER with Tony, while he went with Kate to speak to Petty Officer Swain's attending doctor. Swain had been sedated and moved to a more private area already, but Gibbs wasn't happy to leave until he was sure there were no loose ends that needed tying up. Gibbs wasn't happy to have Melankovic finish things either, although Tim had been impressed with the way the local agent handled herself throughout the investigation, for all that his opinion mattered anyway.

Gibbs just wasn't happy at all.

When Tony was taken in to be checked over, Tim thought the best place for him to be was in the chair he was already sitting in, which was out in the waiting room. He planned to continue what he was doing, which was putting a few ideas about the case down on paper while everything was still fresh in his mind. Tim was convinced all the crazy people and things he was encountering as a NCIS field agent would someday help him write a best seller. Getting into the habit of recording a lot of detail also helped him submit a field report that met with Gibbs standards, more often that not. He was jotting down a couple of observations, mostly about how the bunker was set up and how Swain had looked when they found her, struggling with a description that would do the bizarre situation justice. That was when Gibbs appeared out of nowhere like he seemed to do very regularly and grabbed the book from underneath Tim's moving ballpoint pen. There was now a long ink mark trailed across the page. This was the least of Tim's worries at that particular moment, however.

"What do you think you're doing, McGee?" Gibbs seemed about ten foot tall, standing over Tim like something unholy, notebook dangling from his hand.

"Aaah …"

"Get in there with DiNozzo. We're gonna be upstairs longer than we thought. Keep me informed."

Tim thought he might get the opportunity to say a word or two before another order was fired at him, but he didn't even get his mouth opened more than quarter of an inch. Gibbs drilled him with a look that was mostly annoyance but also no small part concern and said, "Tony was out for over five minutes. You're looking after him until I say you're not. Understood?"

Tim answered with a short nod that he hoped communicated reliability and a willingness to get even the most unusual assignment done. Babysit Tony. Really? Tim was having a hard time working the man that was Leroy Jethro Gibbs out.

"Okay, Boss. Will do."

Gibbs eyed him for another second or two before flinging the notebook back into Tim's lap. Without any further act of intimidation, he strode back towards the elevator.

That had been around one in the afternoon. It was now approaching three, and they were still a good thirty minutes from the airport. Their flight left in forty five minutes, and the way Gibbs was driving they'd make it there with time to have an extra large coffee or two before take-off.

Tony was in the back seat next to him, a jumbo sized soda that was near empty balanced on one thigh. He'd been needling Tim for the past two days about being a green agent, but ever since his head had been introduced to the heavy base of a ceramic lamp, the shoe had been firmly planted on the other foot. Tony had been a pasty, pukey color from the moment he'd first come around on the bunker floor, and his pallor hadn't really improved all that much in the meantime. He seemed to be sweating an awful lot too, although the car's air conditioning was working overtime. Tim had heard him chuckling softly a couple of minutes ago and been afraid to ask what was so amusing. Usually when Tony laughed it was over something Tim had said or done, so it was often better to pretend he didn't hear him. This was probably just another one of those times. Or maybe not.

Gibbs slammed on the brakes. Only because the cab in front had pulled up at a red light for the first time in the history of the automobile. Tony flopped forward fairly bonelessly then landed back against the seat like so much silly putty.

Tim felt compelled to put a hand on Tony's shoulder and make sure he was okay. Gibbs was staring at the pair of them in the rear view mirror, but that in no way influenced his decision to help.

Frowning at the lack of any kind of reaction or DiNozzo patented insult, Tim asked, "Hey Tony, you feeling all right there?"

Tony looked sideways without really turning his head. One glance at Tony's right eyeball provided Tim with an instant flashback to senior high. There was this kid in his science class back then who had the worst truancy record in the state. Always arrived late on the days he did manage to show up and smelled permanently like weed. Right now Tony had the exact same glazed over, high as a kite expression as stoner guy. Tim thought it was safe to say he'd failed his baby-sitting duties and was going to get an L. J. Gibb's ass-kicking in the not so distant future. Exactly how many pills did DiNozzo take, anyway? Shit. That was sure to be Gibb's first question. He grabbed Tony's chin and turned his face towards him.

"Tony? Look at me."

Dinozzo's pupils were huge and did a slow half roll before settling on Tim. He pulled away from Tim's grasp and mumbled something that sounded a lot like "Ssss. Goddagedd sssmare." Then his throat worked up and down a couple of times and he turned a few shades whiter in the space of a second. He clamped his lips firmly together. Tim would bet any money that DiNozzo had just thrown up in his mouth.

"Boss . . ." Tim began.

The light turned green and Gibbs accelerated hard, swerving out in front of the slower traffic to get around the cab and then back into the lane closest to the sidewalk. Tim kept a firm hold on Tony, who looked like he was about to lose what was in his mouth and follow that up with about a week's worth of breakfasts, lunches and dinners.

Tim tried again. "Boss. Tony's . . ."

Tires squealing, Gibbs drove the car up and over the gutter, pulling the car up just shy of a fortuitously unoccupied bus shelter. He wrenched the parking brake on and was out of the car and leaning in Tony's open door before Tim could say 'unwell'.

"I know, McGee." Gibbs voice was controlled, held not a glimmer of murderous intent. Tim hoped this would continue to be the case over the next few minutes at least. Gibbs was staring at Tony and probably coming to the same conclusion as Tim, that DiNozzo's condition involved a lot of drug ingestion on top of the minor concussion.

Kate had turned in her seat to find out what was going on, but was yet to say anything. Tony was completely oblivious to the fact that he was now being observed by his entire team like a bug under a microscope. He slowly peeled back the lid from his soda, bent his head forward and expelled the contents of his mouth into it. Spat twice. Put the lid back snuggly in place with a level of competence truly impressive for someone circling Jupiter. With all that out of the way, Tony leaned back in his seat with a tiny groan.

That was when he noticed Gibbs next to him.

"Oh hey, Boss," he slurred. "Can you stop the car?"

Kate obviously took that comment to indicate her partner's brain was leaking from his ears or something equally as bad. She aimed a worried expression at Gibbs and said, "We should go back to the hospital."

Gibbs ignored Kate and turned his attention to Tim, who knew his time had run out. Probie ass kicking was about to ensue.

"What exactly did that idiot doctor prescribe, McGee?"

Tony opted to field Gibb's question with a very descriptive, "Biiiig pills, boss. Blue ones." He held up his left hand and wiggled all his fingers.

Gibbs voice rose a few decibels. "Five of them?"

That comment was directed squarely at Tim and to him sounded more like, _you let Tony take five damned prescription pain-killers?_

Tim answered in the most professional tone he could muster. "Five milligram Percocet. Tony took two at the hospital, as well as a muscle relaxant."

Tony curled his thumb and pinkie into the palm of his hand.

Tim swallowed the lump in his throat and hoped his voice wouldn't fail him. "Make that three Percocet and a muscle relaxant."

Gibbs eyes flashed dangerously, but he took a deep breath. Tim waited to see if he was about to lose a limb, a job, or both.

"Get Tony in the front seat and get rid of the damned vomit, McGee."

Gibbs returned to the driver's seat with a slam of his door.

As Tim gingerly reached for Tony's jumbo soda-vomit, Gibb's added with a growl, "And when DiNozzo's brain is functioning again, tell him to stick to aspirin."

THE END


End file.
